


Goodbye For Now

by germanjj



Series: Hide From The Moon [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coda, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanjj/pseuds/germanjj
Summary: set towards the very end of 3.12 Total EllipseDerek has one more stop to make, before he leaves Beacon Hills





	Goodbye For Now

**Author's Note:**

> It always bothered me that I had abandoned the series. I've rewatched Season 3b recently and then I realized: this is fanfiction! The beauty of fanfiction is that there are no rules! I can pick up and finish a series 6 years later if I want to.  
So here you go, 3 more parts, this is the first one, the other two are coming this week. Promise. 
> 
> unbeta'd, english is not my first language

~ +++++++++ ~

Stiles hisses as the wet cloth touches the wound on his forehead, clenching his teeth in pain but careful not to make too much noise. Melissa had patched it up as quickly and best she could but during the night Stiles must have rubbed against it enough that the bandage had come off and now it’s bleeding again. He makes a mental note to wash the blood-stained pillow right away before his Dad would see it. They’ve seen enough blood to last them a lifetime.

“You need some help with that?”

Stiles jumps and looks up, cursing as he sees Derek standing in his bedroom, the sun risen just enough so he can make out Derek’s face in the mirror. He looks tired, but not like he’s dressed to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks him, wanting it to come out annoyed or angry, conveying at least some of the horrors he’s been through the last few weeks but to his own ears he only sounds as exhausted as Derek looks. 

“I …,” Derek hesitates, his gaze to the floor as if he’s looking for the right words between the pile of books and clothes cluttered around Stiles’ bed. Stiles studies him through his bathroom mirror and hates himself for how easily he falls for this vulnerable side of Derek.

“Cora and I are leaving Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles flinches a second time, as if Derek had hit him. He waits for the relief, for the feeling that now, finally, he doesn’t have to think about Derek Hale anymore, doesn’t have to keep an eye out for him showing up in his bedroom in the middle of the night and then being disappointed and confused when he doesn’t show up; he waits for all of that wash over him in one final liberation, but it doesn’t come. Instead there’s a faint sadness welling up inside him. Stale disappointment. 

“Are you planning to come back?” he asks, voice rough. 

“I don’t know.” Derek keeps looking at him like he’s studying him. As if he’s expecting more of a reaction. 

Once again Stiles wishes he would share with him whatever he finds because Stiles can’t make anything out of what he’s feeling right now. 

“And you’ve come to say goodbye?” He picks up the cloth again, wets it under running water, and gets back to cleaning the blood off his face. 

“To say goodbye,” Derek confirms behind him. “And to thank you for saving Cora’s life in the ambulance. And to apologize. For everything.”

Stiles doesn’t even know what to say to that. So much has happened. Years of therapy are looming in his future and he can’t even find it in him to make a joke about that. 

He also wonders if Derek went to say goodbye to Scott too, in person, or if Stiles is the only lucky guy Derek Hale grants an in-person visit. He’s afraid he knows the answer and doesn’t know what he feels about that, too.

“I’m still angry at you,” Stiles says just to say something and because it’s the truth. What for exactly is where he’s a little fuzzy on the details. 

“Let me,” comes a voice suddenly much closer and before Stiles can protest, Derek takes the washcloth out of his hand and turns Stiles’ face towards him.

Neither of them speaks as Derek cleans the wound and Stiles feels his cheeks reddening. He’s just woken up, his body still half asleep and warm from the bed, but he can feel the chill morning air radiate off of Derek’s clothes, his leather jacket, and underneath, there’s warmth there and a distinct smell Stiles remembers from nights spent in the same room, from nights sharing the same bed. 

Stiles thinks about his recent panic attach in school and how Lydia had tried to calm him down. Had kissed him. And then his mind wanders further back to how Derek had found him in the same situation. How he had calmed him down, cold claws against his neck and a stern voice. He wonders if he had preferred a kiss.

“Alright, you’re all good now,” Derek whispers and Stiles wants to laugh and point out that he is so far away from being all good. Neither of them is.

But he bites his tongue and looks up at Derek, nodding. “Thank you,” he whispers back.

His heart is pulsing inside his throat and Derek must feel it, must hear it at this point, can probably smell everything Stiles is feeling but not understanding himself on his skin. 

He looks up at Derek and he wants to ask him ‘What do you sense? What do I feel? What do I feel for you?’ But he stays silent, just watches the moment stretch between them. 

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek says, and Stiles is sure he’s not imagining the sad smile flickering over his face for just a second.

Stiles doesn’t find the words to reply, doesn’t know what there even is to reply. 

His body seems to know though. Derek takes a deep breath and then starts to walk away and Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s doing it when he reaches out and catches Derek’s hand in his. 

In what could not be more than a second but feels like minutes ticking by, Derek looks down at their joint hands and then back up at Stiles and then he moves, closer instead of away, covering Stiles’ mouth with his own. 

It’s over in a blink. A soft press of lips against lips, not much of a kiss to begin with, but they both breathe each other in at the same time, reach for each other in a curious dance of synchronized movements and sheer desperation and months of built up tension, and then Stiles can’t feel anything anymore, his hands empty, cold air grazing his lips, and Derek is gone.

“Holy shit,” he whispers all to himself. His beating heart and sweaty palms and the butterflies in his stomach telling him exactly what he had been so keen on ignoring the last months. 

“Holy shit,” he repeats when he realizes that Derek Hale had just kissed him and that he can never tell anyone because how in the hell can he explain that it isn’t even that surprising, that they maybe had been heading here for a while now and where would he even start?

And then he thinks about how Scott would tell him that Derek and Cora had left, not knowing that Stiles would know, and now Stiles rubs his face, almost messing up the wound again, when he realizes that he doesn’t know how to hide the fact that Derek leaving is quite possibly breaking his heart.


End file.
